Figure Skating and Hockey
by LudwigTheViolin
Summary: He breathed in, frozen air stinging his throat like a million needles. There was a competition next week, and Berwald intended to win. So here he was, at the ice skating arena at nine in the morning, with a plan to practice until his face grew numb. Or at least until he was shoved down onto the ice by a hockey player.


**Title: Figure Skating and Hockey**

 **Summary: He breathed in, frozen air stinging his throat like a million needles. There was a competition next week, and Berwald intended to win. So here he was, at the ice skating arena at nine in the morning, with a plan to practice until his face grew numb. Or at least until he was shoved into the ice. Sweden-centric fanfic**

 **Pairing: Sweden x Finland (hinted), Denmark x Norway (hinted)**

 **Author's Note: Hej hej! I know what you're thinking, 'Shouldn't you be updating 'Licorice Words' or working on one of those stories you had planned?' Well guess what? I have writer's block with all of those stories right now, so I'm trying to kick myself back into writing mode with a good ole one-shot about some of my favorite characters. Also, this is kind of terribly written but I need publish something before I go insane.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia!**

* * *

 **Characters:**

 **Berwald Jensen** **\- Sweden**

 **Mathias Jensen - Denmark**

 **Lukas Alexandersen - Norway**

 **Tino Väinämöinen - Finland**

 **Emil Alexandersen - Iceland**

* * *

 _-Third Person-_

His mother dropped him off at the ice arena, asking him for the umpteenth time if he was sure he would be okay alone for an hour. The young boy reminded her, also for the umpteenth time, that he had his cell phone with him and would call her if anything were to happen.

She nodded in response, telling him to be safe as she pulled him into a hug. She wasn't entirely comfortable with leaving her son alone in a public place for such a long time, but her other son had to go to a math competition that was located at least half an hour away. If things were going her way, the woman would not allow her son to be alone this early in the day, but with careful words and a few heart strings pulled, she had given in.

Berwald Jensen was a ten year-old boy who acted more Swedish than he was Danish, despite the fact that he was raised in the capital of Denmark. His mother was Danish and his father had been Swedish, but he had never known his Swedish father who had apparently left after he was born. The young boy didn't like talking much and his classmates knew nothing about him, except that he had a talkative older brother and that his father was a taboo topic. He had flat blonde hair and striking blue eyes, a stereotypical Scandinavian. His face was just like his father's, though, and he was not glad to know that he resembled the absent parent. But as long as he never thought about it, Berwald didn't mind.

It wasn't a secret that Berwald enjoyed ice skating. His mother had been the one to teach him how to ice skate and his older brother always joked that he could skate before he could walk. Years since he first set foot on the ice, and he was competing in a figure skating competition for skaters of all levels that was going to be held next week, and there was a cash prize of 700 Danish Krone if he won the in his level of the competition, too.

Berwald was perfectly fine with competing; he didn't have stage fright and was confident in his abilities. The only thing that bothered him was his timing. However, even though his mother and brother assured him that he would do great in the competition, Berwald still felt the need to practice continuously.

"Mom! I'm going to be late to the competition!" Berwald heard his brother whine from the backseat of the car.

Berwald's older brother was Mathias Jensen, and they got along just as much as any pair of siblings did. In other words, they fought a lot. Mathias was in sixth grade and happened to be quite good at math. He was also like the opposite of Berwald; he was more Danish than he was Swedish, even if they both had the same blood. He was a rambunctious boy, childish and nice. Despite being extroverted and social, however, he was like his brother in the sense that the kids at school didn't know much about him. Also like his younger brother, Mathias had blonde hair and blue eyes, but his hair was nearly always spiky and his eyes were a different shade.

His secondary school was participating in a math competition against other schools in Copenhagen and he had been chosen to represent his grade for their school. Berwald knew that Mathias wouldn't be late to the competition, but that he just wanted to get their early. While he was helping him study, he had learned that Mathias had met a Norwegian boy that was Berwald's age, Lukas Alexandersen. Lukas was apparently so good at math that he would be competing against the kids a grade ahead of him, meaning he would be against Mathias. It seemed that Mathias had grown interested in the other boy, something Berwald inferred after hearing his brother ramble on and on about Lukas.

With another hug from his mother and more whining from Mathias, Berwald bid his mother and brother goodbye before entering the ice arena, paying for his access to the ice during this interval of public skating hours.

He took his backpack, zipping it open to reveal a pair of ice skates that he had gotten for his birthday. He was a growing boy, though, and every birthday his mother somehow managed to scrape enough money to buy him a new pair of quality ice skates.

Berwald slipped on each pair, tightening the laces as much as he could. He loved that feeling; the feeling of a pair of skates tightly bound on your feet.

Once he deemed that he had tied it tight enough, he removed the skating guards, placing them in his backpack. The boy stood up, even taller now that he wore his skates.

Since Berwald always felt uncomfortable doing his stretches in the ice arena, he had done them at home. Even if he hadn't felt uncomfortable with doing his stretches in public, Berwald would have done them at home anyway, seeing how Mathias had kept him up all night. The older boy had insisted that he help him with some last minute studying for the math competition, and with nothing else to do, Berwald had repeatedly performed his stretches.

Looking around, Berwald determined how much space he would have to skate. There was hardly anyone at the ice arena, only a family of three that skated by the walls of the arena, besides the employees. It seemed he would have nearly all the room he wanted for skating. It was quiet save for the mumbled chatter of two employees and the soft hum of radio music that played in background. To Berwald, the atmosphere was peaceful, albeit a little lonely.

Cautiously, he pressed the blade of his skates into the ice. With one gloved hand gripping the entryway he placed the other blade into the ice, his feet steadying and adjusting almost immediately.

He breathed in, frozen air stinging his throat like a million needles.

For a while he stood there, before breathing out and pushing off into the middle of the arena. His thoughts buzzed through his mind and his heart beat fast. Each time he skated, a rush of energy sped through him like lightning, and it was a wonderful feeling he couldn't explain. Berwald glided across the ice easily, dodging the small family before the young child could accidentally bump into him.

After standing in the center of the nearly empty arena for a minute or two, Berwald balanced his skates into a 'T' position, and pushed off. Feet alternated with pushing him forward in strokes, until he finally twisted his body and quickly turned the other direction.

He guided himself so that he began skating in a circle, following the outline of a circle that was used by the hockey players when they competed here.

With little hesitance, Berwald began lifting his feet and crossing them over one another whilst he continued to follow the outline of the circle. He ceased crossing his feet over one another and twisted his body once more.

Again, he turned, but he continued to follow the outline of the circle, only this time he was skating backwards.

Berwald turned his head to watch behind him, his hands flying up to adjust his glasses. His feet moved on its own, performing the backward half swizzle pumps on the edge of the circle like his mother had showed him.

Soon, he was crossing his feet over one another, backward crossovers.

Apparently, he had not lifted his skate high enough though, because as he attempted another crossover, Berwald had tripped.

He was falling backwards, but he managed to shift his weight so that he deliberately fell forward. Thankfully he had remembered to wear gloves and he caught himself before his face could slam against the hard ice.

For a few minutes he stayed that way, facing the opaque ice as he tried to steady his heavy breathing. He shut his eyes tight, in an attempt to calm himself.

The father in the small family that had also been skating came up to him, asking if he was okay. Berwald nodded slowly, before pushing himself off of the ice and going back to standing. Once the man saw that he was alright, he returned to his wife and child.

He stood there, contemplating what to do. The decision was clear in his head, though, he had to continue practicing.

* * *

In only a couple minutes Berwald was performing the backward crossovers again, this time making sure he didn't trip. He continued crossing his feet over one another as he twisted his body and turned once more, so that he skated forward.

However, this time he diverged from the circle, his feet pushing him off into effortless strokes.

He lifted one foot off the ice, lifting it high enough to be considered an arabesque.

It didn't last as long as Berwald hoped it would, but his body had involuntarily lowered his leg and now he was hastily turning so that he would not collide with the wall of the ice arena. He was now headed back in the direction of the circle.

He had just went against his routine, and Berwald mentally slapped himself for performing half swizzles instead of strokes.

As he skated back, Berwald decided that since he was already changing the performance, albeit accidentally, he might as well improvise and enjoy himself.

He began skating faster, performing wide slaloms before making them into half swizzles and then turning those into tiny, normal swizzles. His feet met at a 'v', just like they should when one performed a swizzle, before separating, meeting once more, and repeating the process.

Soon, his feet stopped moving and Berwald was just gliding across the ice. He eventually reached the other end of the arena, where he stopped for a few moments.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw another boy, who looked like he was around his age, step onto the ice.

Berwald began to skate forward, gaining speed with each push. He lifted his foot slowly, raising it as high as he possibly could. And as soon as he felt as if he could not hold it longer, he lowered it.

However, he did not place the blade of his skate back on the ice, and instead, continued to lower his leg, bending the other as he rested it onto the ice and continued to glide forward.

And Mathias said he wouldn't be able to perform a lunge.

A small smile formed on his lips as he stopped just in front of the wall of the arena, and quickly got up, skating back to the center of the arena. This time he entered the circle skating backwards; lifting one blade off the ice and balancing himself on the outside edge of the blade that remained on the ice.

In his mind, Berwald was pondering about what he could do next. He recalled that in the routine he was supposed to perform for the competition, his family suggested ending it extravagantly. But as of now he didn't know how he should end it.

After a few moments, an idea popped into his head. It was something he had seen his mother do once, when he was younger and she could still skate.

* * *

He was planning to do a ballet jump and top it all off with a one-foot upright spin.

Berwald did a once over of his surroundings, just to make sure he wouldn't collide with anyone. The small family was exiting the arena, and the only people left in the arena was himself and the other kid, who looked like he had fallen on the ice, since he was sitting down.

Deeming it safe, Berwald began to rehearse his performance.

His feet balanced on the sharp blades of his skates as he positioned himself into the 'T' position once more. A deep breath exited Berwald's mouth as he pushed off into a stroke.

He glided across the ice, his feet silently pushing him farther and faster. He continued this for a few moments, before twisting his upper body and turning in the other direction without faltering.

Returning to the circle, he immediately began his crossovers. Two times he went around the circle, before he turned once more, going where he had come from. This time he kept his hands in the appropriate position, allowing his glasses to slip a little as he performed his half-swizzle pumps around the circle. After he had went around once, his feet began to cross over one another, at least every other moment.

Once Berwald decided that he was ready, he skated away from the circle. As soon as he left the outline he lifted his leg as fast and steady as he could. When he began to get too close to the wall of the arena, he set his blade back onto the ice and effortlessly turned.

He went back to stroking, gliding quickly across the ice.

When his eyes flickered to the boy who he was sharing the arena with, he saw the boy speeding around the edges. A hockey player, or someone aspiring to be one, from the looks of it. Berwald wasn't entirely fond of hockey players, since they had a tendency to interrupt his practices whenever they sped right past him or stopped by him, causing shaved ice to fly off and onto him as they halted with a hockey stop.

Passing by the center of the arena, Berwald prepared himself for the ballerina jump.

As soon as the blades of his skates left the ice, however, Berwald found himself crashing down onto the hard surface.

* * *

"I'm so sorry! Oh gosh, what do I do?" Berwald heard a voice say, as he blinked slowly.

Everything around him was blurry, the absence of his glasses distorting his vision. However, Berwald could still make out the blurred shape of a person in front of him. He assumed that the person in front of him was the other kid, since they were the only people skating in the arena. His side stung with a familiar pain; the dull ache of his bones and muscles smashed against the cold ice causing his thoughts to feel muddled and foggy.

"It's fine," Berwald quietly said, "M' glasses."

"Right!" the boy replied, and soon Berwald's glasses were being slipped back onto his face. Berwald's hand immediately went to his face, readjusting his glasses before taking his head in his hands.

The boy in front of him wore a worried expression, pretty violet eyes wide and scared. The boy had light blonde hair, a lighter shade than his own, combed neatly with bangs parted. He was definitely smaller than Berwald, and he suspected that the boy might be a little younger than him, maybe a year or two. He was sitting on the ice, and with his glasses Berwald could now see the hockey skates that he wore. Looking at the hockey skates he managed to find a conclusion as to how he fell. It was most likely that the boy had been speeding across the arena and the two had collided.

"I'm sorry about that, I should have looked where I was going!" the boy said, watching Berwald as he quickly got up from the ice. His body was screaming with pain, but Berwald brushed it off, used to the pain with the great amount of times he had fallen whilst ice skating.

He got up, brushing the ice off of himself, before looking down at the boy who remained on the ground.

"It's fine," Berwald said, holding his hand out to the boy.

* * *

"T'no, slow down!" a deep voice shouted.

From where he sat, Emil looked out at the ice arena, watching the troublesome group he called 'family'. Mathias, his older brother's friend, was on the ground laughing loudly and seemingly unfazed by his sudden fall to the cold surface. He was wrapped up in many coats and scarves with a hat over his wild hair, being the least resistant to cold out of the group. Emil's older brother, Lukas, was staring down at Mathias, an emotionless expression on his face. Lukas dressed lightly, especially when compared to Mathias, and was scolding the Dane for being clumsy. Meanwhile, Tino, a family friend, was dragging Mathias' younger brother, Berwald, across the ice arena.

Tino was a hockey player while Berwald was a figure skater, and from what Emil had been told, the two had met each other five years ago at this same place. Emil didn't know much about what happened between the two, but Lukas told him that the two tended to go to the arena together; although they usually did separate activities.

"Aw! Come on Ber, this isn't that bad," Tino replied, tugging at Berwald's arm as he pulled him even faster. One might have thought Berwald wouldn't mind skating fast, but Tino was far quicker than him when it came to skating and never had he skated at that speed.

Emil watched with little interest as Berwald and Tino collided with Lukas and Mathias, who had just gotten up. He wasn't entirely sure what happened the day Berwald and Tino met, but Emil knew that, surrounded by the frozen air and donning their skates, something special had bloomed.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I skate, so I know what I'm talking about, don't worry! Well, I've never been in a competition before, so I wouldn't know anything about that and I'm not familiar with writing about sports.**

 **Hockey players do that to my friends and I, the messing up our figure skating practice by doing the hockey stop in front of us and cutting us off by speeding in front of us, but I'm not saying every hockey player does that because you guys are awesome!**

 **I don't think I did that great with this fanfic, but I guess it's better to publish something rather than nothing. Anyway, thanks for reading!**


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